Morning journal and courier., 1887-02-24
Locked Out.

From the New YORK SUM-
A few minutes after o'clock on the after
noon of last Saturday small man, rigid of
moustache, and large man, yoluminous of
chin, might have been seen in a carriage
which pair of seal brown steeds drew
swiftly to the sidewalk in front of the White
House. There crowd of idlers and strangers
was gathered The last of Mrs. Cleveland's
receptions was going on. To avoid the
crowd, the carriage was driven to the west
gate in the rear of the White House. The
large man, who had already been recognized
by the crowd as the Hon. Grover Cleve-
land, scrambled heavily to the sidewalk
and bade the driver take home Col. Daniel
Lamont.
The carriage drove away. Mr.. Cleveland
put his hand stoutly to the gate and found
it unamenable to pushing, securely and
undoubtedly looked. A furrow of surprise
ploughed his broad forehead. "Well, this is
pretty business" he murmured, as he strobe
around the rear of the grounds to the treasury
gate. He put his hand to this, too. He
turned the handle, he ratified and shook and
pushed, but in vain. He put his big Shout
der against it, but it showed no relenting
The night was chill, but rils of perspira-
ton welled over his manly face. His
wrist was strained with tugging at the
gates, his fingers were stiff, his feet
were cold. Fire flashed from his eyes,
and his heart was heavy. He felt himself
to be occupying an absurd position; and the
dread of being ridiculous is singularly acute
in persons beyond the ordinary weight of
man.
1t was most absurd. The hum of many
voices reached him from the interior of the
house, some soft Hungarian air floating
from the band stationed in the vestibule; as
he knew, the rooms blazed with lights and
bloomed with flowers, and many lovely
women, and one, the loyeliest of all to his
mind, were listening with one ear to that
bright melody, and with the other receiving
the compliments due to their charms. Yes,
his wife was inside and he was locked
out. Mrs. Cleveland was giving reception,
and Mr.. Cleveland, unregarded and I'M
comfortable, was kicking his shins at the
treasury gate, and wondering by what
blind fortuity or act of human idiocy
he was thus excluded from his home, un-
willingly divorced from his own wife, and
made to wait like creditor or poor rela-
ton. But at last somebody happened to look
out from window of the White House and
saw the luckless President, and bade unlock
the gate and let him in. Then it appeared
that orders had been given to clese the gates
at O'Clock, to prevent the admission of any
more guests. The explanation was satsfae
tory, but Brother Cleveland had not enjoyed
waiting.
And yet it might have been profitable to
him for reproof and instruction if no friendly
eye had seen him from the window and no
friendly hand ended his lockout Those
few minutes of impatient and angry delay,
that surprise and disgust at finding himself
shut out from his own house, should give
him at least some sluggish feeling of the
wrath and weariness with which the Demo
cratic party waits at the portal of an alleged
| Democratic Administration. And as yet
no friendly hand opens the gates. They are
not shut out by negligence or mistake, but
by set purpose; and that is where the Bit
| terness of waiting lies. Remember Grover
Cleveland, with what impatient shiverings
and stampings you chilled your nose
against the treasury entrance to the White
| House, and what fret and ferment pos
| sessed you to be in. Hear the Democrats
| laundering away at your administration.
| Bounce your mugwump porter; go down in